


Cozy

by bellygunnr



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Apartments, F/F, Illness, Inkling Army, Living Together, M/M, Manga, Multi, Roommates, Turf wars, inkopolis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: The Yellow Green Team have become the best of friends! Lets kick it up a notch, huh?





	1. Apartments

“It’s not much, but it’s ours,” Stealth announced with a flourish. He pushed open the door and strutted into the apartment’s circular room, grinning beneath his goggles. “What do you think?”  
  
“Don’t forget the lights, Stealth. The rest of us can’t see in the dark,” Blazer admonished. The room hummed as she tapped a pressure-sensitive pad on the wall, triggering the lights. The apartment was brightly colored and minimally furnished- a dilemma that could be easily remedied.  
  
“Well, right! But how does it look?” He crossed his arms, turning to eye down the rest of the Yellow-Green team.   
  
“It looks wonderful,” she relented. “Isn’t this a single room, though?” Blazer tilted her head to the mouth of a single hall, fitted with only two doors. “Look…”

“It is! It is, but I figured you and Bamboo would like it, yeah? And Rider and I can sleep in here…!” His voice picked up, made anxious by his friend’s questioning. Should he have gotten a two room? Their only criteria was “cheap but nice..”

Bamboo closed the door behind her as she slipped in, hat pressed to her chest. “That works for me… It won’t be hard to find a pair of cots,” she chirped airily. “I hope Rider doesn’t mind though…”  
  
They looked at each other. Despite how close the four of them had gotten, they still had little idea of Rider’s preferences or grievances. He was relentlessly coy about himself. They didn’t want to force him into living conditions he couldn’t stand, either, but…

“It’ll be fine!” Bamboo decided vehemently. She tossed her hat out, much like a frisbee, and watched it catch the corner of the sofa. “On top of this being the perfect apartment– good job, Stealth– they have a weapons vault on this floor!”


	2. Shops

"A Deluxe Vault for four, then?" The Inkling girl behind the counter ran Rider's card through the reader, ears twitching ever so slightly at the deep tone it sounded off. "Are you collectors?" She asked, raising a heavy-shaded eyebrow. 

"Collectors? No, we just like to have our options open," Rider replied. He tucked his card back into his wallet, along with the narrow Shell Key the girl handed him.

"Ah, you're all fighters, then. Well! That's to be expected. Oh! You'll be needing this as well," the girl added. She slid another card in his direction, one branded with the apartment building's name. "If your roommates present this to me, I'll be able to get them a copy as well."

Rider nodded, just barely hiding a frown. That was a strange policy. Why were things so tight here...? "Thank you, ma'am. I'll be seeing you," he said.

 

The apartments were well-occupied. Rider passed Inklings of all types as he climbed the stairs to the fifth floor of the structure, leaving his tanned skin crawling with the feeling of being watched. He knew that they knew who he was and he was trying hard not to care but... The faster he got to his new home, the better. Really, who cared where he stayed...? 

The whole of Inkopolis, apparently.

It wasn't soon enough when he arrived at his apartment's door.

 

"Rider! Look, look, isn't this place great?" Blaze gasped, pulling him excitedly into their apartment. "It's really cheap and there's space for all of us...!"

"Right, yes, is there-?" He was quick to tug his wrist free, brows knitting together. "Everyone's here!"

The walls of the apartment were bright orange, decorated with swirling blue waves and white bubbles, glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. A lone sofa sat almost forlornly in the center of the living room, cheered only by Bamboo's hat dangling from its edge. A small alcove-like dip in the room gave way to a tiny kitchen, thankfully equipped with a fridge and other appliances. It would be a tight fit, though.

Otherwise, everything was completely barren. They would have to start from scratch save for the clothes they had with them.

"How do you like it, Rider?" Stealth cut in. 

"It's bright," he replied. "I can tell it's only meant for one or two Inklings, but I don't mind-- don't look so stricken!" Rider felt his tentacles curl atop his head in alarm. "You did great, Stealth! How do you guys like it?"

Bamboo threw herself down against the sofa dramatically, hand pressed to her forehead. "You had us all in stitches! Anyway, I think it's cute."

"And it's really convenient- there's vaults on this floor!" Blazer chirped.

"That reminds me- shoot, they have stupid policies here. I rented out a Deluxe Vault for all of us. Our floor."

 

Rider joined Stealth in perusing the store's selection of cots- which, admittedly, was very meager. Most of them were also too short to accommodate Rider and his weird, long body. 

Not that he was surprised. He was used to that.

"I could always sleep on the couch," he hummed. "And you could use a cot."

"Oh, yeah. We really don't need two of these things, do we?" With that, Stealth reached up to grab a box above his head, skin turning lime-green with the effort. "I want this one! Look, it's green!" He hauled it out with a grunt.

 

"We should have looked in the room before coming here..." Blazer sighed.

"Nonsense. Any apartment-issued blankets would be atrocious and an assault to the senses," Bamboo retorted. "We will live as queens on the plushest pillows and softest blankets!"

"When you put it like that," Blazer said, "it does sound pretty nice."

With that, they went their separate ways. By the time they met at their rendezvous- the cash register- everything was green and they were feeling very silly, but proud of themselves. 


	3. Sick Ink

_Octarians are huge, grotesque creatures that lurk in the recesses of Rider's dreams. Green ink splatters beneath his feet as he hurls his Gold Dynamo through the air, lashing out at those creatures, chasing them in his nightmare. He growls and gnashes his torn up teeth, jaws snapping together violently. Their skin sizzles as his ink hits them full in the face--_

_He charges through their bubbling masses, wears their blood as armor. It just sloughs back off as he dips into his own Ink, and his own skin stings--_

 

"Rider! Rider, wake up!"

His skin is still stinging even as Rider jerked away, swiping out at the air with a claw-shaped hand. He swallowed down a growl when Stealth focused in his vision, patterned face pinched with anxiety. Had he been that noisy...?

"You were screaming in your sleep, Rider. I know you're not supposed to wake someone up like that, but you sounded really scary, and--" Stealth's words blurred together as he desperately explained himself, fingers digging into the edge of the couch.

"You're fine, Stealth. I'm sorry I scared you," Rider cut in. He pushed himself up and threw his legs over the side, chest rising and falling rapidly. "It's okay."

Stealth swallowed hard, unsure. "It must have been a really bad dream, huh?"

Rider looked at him, silent. Stealth was darker-skinned than himself with dark purple streaks covering part of his face. His eyes were a pale pink, lacking the vivid hue of a typical Inkling. He shook his head.

"It was nothing, surely. I hardly remember it," the roller lied. His skin itched from the effects of the dream. "Are the others awake?"

"N- no, it's... it's still really late," the tactician admitted. "Three or four in the morning."

Rider did not go back to sleep that night.

 

  
Blaze squinted up at the white ceiling of her room. Her ears were ringing with some shrill noise- a scream of some kind, yet it had ended too quickly for her to be sure. She looked to the clock beside her- three thirty, but it was still dark outside.

"D'you hear that, Blaze?" Bamboo asked suddenly.

"Sounded like something," she replied. "Whatever it is, it's quiet now."

"Must have been on the street... We're close to the alley," Blaze conceded. She reached out to grab Bamboo's hand, closing her eyes.

 

  
"Hey, where did Rider go?" Bamboo asked of Stealth when she and Blaze finally left their room. It was noon now, well into the day. "Weren't we supposed to practice today?"

"I don't know- I didn't see him leave..." Stealth scratched the sides of his goggles in confusion. "He was gone when I woke up!"

"Well, he can take care of himself. Wonder what's up in the city..." Blaze said with a wave of her hand.

She flicked on a wall-mounted screen that resided in the kitchen. Immediately, that day's stages and missions were announced. It ended in a selection screen of various battles and the Inklings participating in them, along with other information.

Rider's was the first name to pop up. He was in a Turf War- all by himself! Blaze threatened to break the remote as she selected it, bringing up the live stream.

"Why is he Turfing all by himself...?" She huffed crossly.

"Might be his way to work off steam," Bamboo said lightly. "He's allowed to do that..."

It was said that an Inkling Turfed differently on his own than with his trusted team. If you wanted to truly know what someone was like, you need only watch them from a distance on the battlefield. The Yellow-Green team thought of his proverb now as they observed Rider.

He was a violent Inkling.

He completely dominated the game, yet his playing was devoid of the skill and tact they had become familiar with. He lashed out at every enemy with his Dynamo. He drove relentlessly into Inklings who had their guns aimed at him, taking the brunt of their fire. The camera focused on him and there was--

there was _nothing_ in his eyes.

_"Rider is completely rocking the game! Look at him go- it's as if he's a one-Inkling army!"_

Then he collapsed, roller flying out from beneath him. The camera honed in ever closer-- it had to be a drone, for all the detail--

_"Is- Is he hurt? Look at that--"_

Rider struggled to get up, head jerking unevenly as he spat and coughed, **black** ink frothing at the corner of his lips.


	4. The Past Haunts

The hospital lights glared hotly against Rider's eyelids, dragging him into consciousness. He could feel a foreign fluid coursing through his body, circulated steadily by his own ink flow, fed by what must be an IV. With great reluctance he forced open his eyes, squinting immediately against the light, barely registering the gathering of shadows.

Shadows. Figures. People. _Team_.

_Friends_.

"You guys," he hissed. "You didn't need to come..."

"Of course we did," someone-- Blaze?-- said crossly. "And I'm glad all of us came."

Pretty odd thing to be glad about, Rider thought bitterly. He sat up with a wince, chest heaving as he bit down another coughing fit. But he didn't grace her with a response, instead directing a searing glare at the wall ahead.

"We talked to the doctors, you know," Blaze continued. Curbed anger.

Rider cut his eyes sharply at her. Bamboo had an arm curled around her middle, while Stealth stood on the opposite side of his bed.

"Yes? What's wrong with me?" His voice came out choked, strained. "Why are you grilling me?"

"M- maybe you should interrogate him later," Stealth piped up nervously. His fingers kneaded the thin blankets. "He's been through a lot. They've hooked you up to some reserve ink," he added.

Reserve ink. Just how much 'blood' had he lost between the attack and his arrival to the hospital? A tiny bit of guilt nipped him. They wouldn't dare use that Turf arena for a long time after his stint. He nodded his acknowledgement and continued glaring at the wall.

"I'm just glad you're alright," Bamboo said quietly. "We were really worried after what we saw on the television." She drew Blaze away from his bed.

Rider nodded slowly. "How much did you see, anyway?"

"You collapsed on top of your Dynamo. You..." Stealth trailed off, afraid to continue. If he put the events to word, they would be much too real.

"Right. I see," he said quietly. All four of them had seen it, then. No wonder Blaze was enraged- every Inkling knew what black ink meant. How insidious it really was. "I see. And what did the doctors say?"

"That you're too young to be dying!" Blaze growled, bearing her fangs. "You're dying, Rider! They say you've got some kind of sickness."

"Don't say that!" Stealth cried, voice growing thin. "He-- they didn't say that! No one's dying!"

"But they did say you are ill," Bamboo said calmly, yet her eyes betrayed her fear. She pulled at Blaze's hair, stroking along the yellow-green tentacles. "With what, they won't say."

Rider flinched, ears folding back against his head. Dying, yes. Illness, well... He didn't feel comfortable elaborating the details. If the doctors told them it was a sickness, then he was content to let his team believe it. In some ways, it was.

"Guess we'll just have to find out," he said quietly. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he sank back into his bed, sighing. "Sorry for scaring you guys. I'll be fine."

Some part of him wished they would leave. He needed time to collect his thoughts and figure out what he was going to do. He would need to find time to reach out to someone, perhaps a pair of someones, and reconcile.

 

The hospital released him when his ink reserves were restored and stabilized. They prescribed him a medication, another check-up, and a phone number that made him sneer. But he accepted it regardless because that's what one did, though he wasn't about to oblige to their instructions.

But it made the reality weigh more heavily on his mind.

"You should take some time off to rest," Bamboo implored him once he returned home.

"Or take the time to tell us what's going on," Blaze cut in.

"I will do neither. I'll be fine," Rider said firmly. He dropped his newfound possessions on the kitchen table and huffed. "I'm not dying and I'm already feeling better. I just need to take this potion for a week."

His doctor had prescribed it to him indefinitely.

"You were spitting black ink!" Blaze growled.

"Where's Stealth-chan, huh?" Rider asked suddenly. He waved his arms to encompass the large apartment. "Is he on an errand?"

"He's doing as Stealth does," Bamboo hummed.

Whatever that meant. Rider looked at Bamboo quizzically, her strange behavior finally dawning on him. But he didn't comment on it. Maybe they were all a little on edge.

 

Spyke was not a morning creature. He detested the hours before noon and usually slept through them, braving the world when the sun was lowering on the other half of the sky. But today he would be yanked from his slumber by the incessant jingling of his phone, his room illuminated by the constant glow. He snatched it up with a groan, blearily reading the text--

' _Famous Dynamo Machine Rider Collapses!_ '

His ink went cold. With a shaking thumb he swept through the rest of his notifications, wincing at just how much Goggles had been messaging him. Of course. Yes.

**_Goggles_**  
 _hey uh i dont know if you know but please read these articles_  
 _hes already been released im sure_  
 _but this happened a lot faster than we thought huh_  
 _one of these things say he lost a lot of ink_  
' **vomited half of his weight in viscous, stinking black ink** '

**_Spyke_ **   
_Give me time to read through these. Good morning._

**_Goggles_ **   
_oh wow you're awake_   
_uh_   
_can i come over please_

**_Spyke_ **   
_Yes._

**_Goggles_ **   
_oh thank goodness_   
_im going a little crazy all by myself_

**_Spyke_ **   
_You are already a little crazy. The door will be open._


	5. Reunion

Spyke and Goggles pore over the news together, utilizing the sea urchin's ubiquitous technology. They sift through articles, social media, and their own shared history with Rider to process the news and come to terms with it.

"We need to visit him. I don't care what he said," Goggles bubbles. He lowers the screen into his lap.

"I know... I think I can figure out where he's staying, if he doesn't come to us first, love," Spyke croons quietly. He has an arm loosely curled around Goggles' waist, nimble fingers kneading gentle circles into his belly. "Murch and I have a lot of contacts..."

"It feels wrong to do that..." Goggles mumbles. "But..."

A phone pings. Goggles snatches it- it isn't his- and stares at the screen.

"An unknown number!" He squeaks. He swipes hard, claws almost scraping the touchscreen. "Oh! Oh!"

Spyke pulls the Inkling closer, vibrant eyes searching the message intently.

**UNKNOWN:**   
_Hey. It's Rider._

"What a bastard," Spyke snarls before he can catch himself.

"Don't be like that! He actually messaged us! And you didn't save his number, so shame on you!" Goggles snaps.

  
They end up meeting at a cafe. Rider looks harrowed, awful, disgusting-- just like an Inkling who just brushed with death and is too stubborn to rest. He watches Spyke and Goggles approach with apprehension. It's been a long time.

A few years, really.

"Rider... We were so worried!" Goggles cries. He sits right beside Rider, leaning across the table. Spyke is much more graceful.

There is silence from the sea urchin.

"I'm sorry," he begins, "for everything..."

"You could have died, Rider," Spyke starts. "Isn't that the same reason you left us in the first place? Didn't you want to die quietly and in peace?"

Yes, Rider thinks. But then he met Goggles, and his teammates, and life felt a lot more special. He forgot about his curse.

And remembered his past. He bows his head to Spyke.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"What... what did the doctor say, Rider?" Goggles interrupts.

"Nothing about my life expectancy, but I have medication to take, and a referral to the Army," Rider says automatically. Words drip free from his lips, looser now than ever before. "I'm not accepting any help from the Army."

He looks at Spyke, who stares back at him dryly. "What have you told your friends?"

"...Nothing..." Rider admits. "They don't need to know anything, okay?"

"Rider!" Spyke snaps, slapping his palm flat across the table. "You can't just--"

Goggles grabs Spyke's hand. "Stay the night with us, Rider! Please?"

Rider leans away, taken aback by the outburst. Spyke's outrage he was willing to handle but...

"Are you two still... together?" Rider asks tentatively.

 

Goggles' home is as disorganized as Rider remembers. Framed pictures litter the walls and every available surface-- most of them are of his team and his friends. He knows that pictures of himself and Spyke are by his futon in the back. He hopes they're still there.

He wondered if Stealth was okay. Blazer was probably still angry at him. Bamboo... hopefully she was okay, too.

"If the doctors didn't you give a life expectancy, how long d'you think you got?" Goggles asks bluntly.

"Maybe a few years, if I'm careful. Some months if I'm not," Rider admits.

"You should change weapons, Rider. Something _lighter_ , that doesn't use so much ink," Spyke growls. "Or modify your gear."

Rider looks up at him and frowns. "I don't want my team to worry that much," he says stubbornly. If he stopped using the Dynamo, they'd know something was horribly wrong.

Spyke snorts and drops onto the soft cushion of the futon, legs sprawling out haphazardly. His mane of purple spikes drooped around his head. Rider watches him, chest squeezing as he recalls every detail of Spyke, especially why he fell for him.

He looks to Goggles. Could he really leave both of them again? Did he really want to risk his life for the sake of his team, when he had these two? They both had waited for him!

 

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I want to be your guys' friend again."


	6. Terminal

Rider stared down at his breakfast in unabashed amazement. Goggles had prepared him, as he used to, oatmeal and a plum smoothie– both very soft foods that didn’t require any chewing. But at the same time, it filled him with shame. Did he deserve to eat this? No, he’d be better off eating something solid.

“I know that look, Rider!” Goggles said. “Don’t do it. Eat your breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” Rider said sheepishly. He began to dig into his oatmeal.

It was very sweet, warm, and delicious.

“Is Spyke still asleep?” He asked, taking another bite.

“No, he went grocery shopping. It’s almost noon, Rider,” Goggles said with a hum. He sat across from him, sticking a pickled plum between his teeth.

Rider guzzled down his own plum smoothie, relishing in the lack of pain. But he knew that, eventually, he must return home.

And that was shortly after breakfast.

 

Everyone was still home by the time Rider returned. His heart twinged at the sight– not much had occurred in his absence, probably  _because_  of his absence. He closed the door slowly behind him.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he said. “I… guess I have some explaining to do.”

“Some explaining?” Blazer said coldly. “That’s an understatement.”

She was sat on the sofa beside Stealth– he had exchanged his goggles for a pair of shades. His hands were busy with a gaming device. Bamboo meandered in just as he began to sit on his cot.

“We were worried about you, Rider! Where’d you go last night?” Bamboo cried.

“I… spent the night with some old friends,” Rider began. “I needed to see them again. And I need to come clean to everyone here.”

Stealth was paying attention now, folding his game together with a soft snap. He rubbed his eyes under the shades.

“Right. Okay. That turf war– wasn’t the first time that’s happened to me. It’s a disease that a lot of Inklings who do time in the Army get. It’s terminal.” He spoke staggeringly, unsure of how best to tell them. “It’s just the worst attack I’ve had recently.”

“My father was a soldier, too, Rider,” Blazer said. “So I kind of… know what you’re going through. Recognized it. But I’m glad you’re telling us by yourself.”

Her voice was less guarded, less emotional. He wasn’t sure if she was still angry at him though. He wouldn’t blame her if she was.

“I’m sorry, Blazer. Everyone, even, that I couldn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you guys to worry– I wanted to run away from it,” Rider choked out. “Hell– shit, okay. I want to keep battling with you guys! Please.”

“We’re not… going to cut you off that easily,” Bamboo said gently. “Breathe, Rider. You have to let us help you–  _tell us_  these things!”

Stealth nodded. “Just like you guys help me. We can help you, too. But you said this is… terminal?”

Rider’s skin felt hot and his eyes burned. He had expected… a fight, or something, but all he was receiving was a gentle determination and kindness. They had waited for him, worried about him, and were now offering to support him even after all he had done. He lied to them for months so that… what? So they wouldn’t be scared?

His cheeks felt damp.

“Yes. Terminal– had it for years, um, since I got out. I was kind of predisposed to it, anyway. It’s just getting worse now,” Rider gasped. “Could be months or years, depends on…”

If he used the Dynamo or not.

“I can’t use my Goldie,” he said finally. “Need to get a new one. A new… weapon.”


End file.
